


Moonlight

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Series: Cloak and Dagger [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Or so I've been told, Romance, Smut, pre-landsmeet, so sweet it'll make your teeth ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: Alistair has a secret he can no longer keep hidden from Rhea. A confession under the moonlight leads to something both wonderful and unexpected.





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This short story takes place prior to the Landsmeet, but after most of the major DA:O quests are done.

If you were to ask Rhea Tabris what she missed most about Denerim, she would say, without question, the baths. 

Even in the alienage, baths were a crucial part of Ferelden life. No matter how hard her day had been, she had always been able to have a warm bath at the end of the week. Since she had become a Grey Warden and this mess with the Blight had begun, Rhea’s bathing schedule had fallen from weekly to once in a blue moon. 

She found it very irritating. 

Which was why when her little band had made camp not too far away from a deep pool at the bottom of a waterfall, she would let nothing get in the way of her having some proper bathing time. 

With the sun set and Alistair keeping guard, Rhea snuck out of her tent and through the underbrush towards the pool. The moon was bright that night, the silver light dappling as it shone through the leafy canopy. Though she could already see well enough in the dark—a gift of elven eyesight—Rhea didn’t mind the moon. The light was pretty and made her feel free. Pulling off her clothes, Rhea descended into the chilly pool and let the water overcome her. 

She was floating on her back, gazing at the sky when she heard a familiar cough from shore. 

She closed her eyes. “What is it, Alistair?” 

“How did you know it was me?” 

“I always know when it’s you. Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the camp?” 

“It’s second watch,” he said. “Sten relieved me ten minutes ago. I… noticed you weren’t in your tent, so I thought I’d check on you. You couldn’t have gone far and… well, look, here you are.” 

Rhea splashed a hand into the water. “Here I am.” 

“Look… Do you think you could put your clothes on? I’d like to ask you something and it’s a little easier to do if one of us isn’t… you know… naked.” 

Rhea tilting up and treaded water. “You know I’m perfectly comfortable talking from here.” 

“Yes, but… _I’d_ feel better if you put some clothes on.” 

“Are you blushing? You can’t see anything. Look, the moonlight’s barely hitting me.” 

“Look, Rhea,” Alistair said bluntly, “the teasing and banter is nice and all, but I really think you should have some clothes on for this conversation.” 

Rhea’s eyes widened. “All right,” she said softly. “I’ll get changed. Give me a moment, I’m coming out.” 

“It’s okay,” Alistair said. “My back is already turned.” 

Rhea stepped out of the pool and, though she was dripping, threw her clothes back on. She didn’t bother with her boots—she fully intended on going back to her bath after Alistair said whatever he had to say. 

“You can turn around now,” she said. 

Alistair turned around and stepped into the moonlight. 

Rhea raised an eyebrow. “No boots?” she said, gesturing at his bare feet. 

“I… I didn’t really think this through,” he said. “I just got up and came here.” 

Rhea shrugged. “Boots are overrated anyway.” 

“I know, right?! They’re sticky and sweaty and they’re always giving you blisters and, sweet Maker, they make your feet _stink_ —” 

“Alistair?” Rhea interrupted. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here to talk to me about boots.” 

“Oh! Right. No. Not about boots, no.” He looked away. “I came for another reason.” 

Rhea tugged on her hair, weaving it into a braid. “Which is…?” she prompted. 

Alistair stuck his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry, I should have thought this through more.” He paused.

Rhea waited. 

“You remember that time in Orzammar,” he said. “At the tavern when we… well, we were drunk and we kissed?” 

Rhea finished her braid. “Yes.”

“I was… wondering… if there was anything more to that? I’ve been thinking that the kiss was really nice and if there was, well, I mean if there was a chance for there to be something more to that, then… well, I wouldn’t mind. I would like to know, that is. But if there wasn’t anything more to it—if it was just a drunk kiss between friends, like you said, then I’d really rather stop thinking about it altogether.” 

Rhea stood still. 

“So…” Alistair brushed loose hair from his forehead. It always stuck up in weird ways after he had slept on it. Rhea had to resist the urge to run her fingers through his hair and fix it. “What do you think?” 

She really did like his hair. 

“What?” Rhea said. 

Alistair looked down. “Oh, sweet Maker, I knew this was a bad idea… Just forget I said anything—” 

Rhea touched his arm. “No, no, I heard you. I was just… Thinking. About what you said.” 

Damn his hair. 

“Thinking?” Alistair said. “Good thinking or bad thinking?” 

“Just thinking! Does thinking have to be good or bad?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me—” 

“Alistair, stop, please,” Rhea interrupted. “Are you trying to say that you… you’re in love with me?” 

“No! No, not _in_ love, I think there are a lot of things that need to happen for you to be _in_ love with someone, but yes—to put the matter to rest—I _like_ … you. I like you.” 

Rhea wrapped her arms around herself. She needed to feel something real and her own skin was the only thing available. 

“There you have it,” Alistair said. “I said it. It’s all out in the open now—hoo, I feel a lot better.” His hands were still in his pockets. He glanced at the pool and the gently lapping water. “Can you say something? Please? This is really awkward standing here, me with the confession of love—not that it’s love—and you with the… silence. Really awkward.” 

“Alistair,” Rhea said. 

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” he said brightly. “My name is a good place to start.” 

“Alistair, I…” 

“Getting better, that’s two words now!” 

“Alistair, can you be serious, please?” Rhea snapped. 

“Oh no! Friendly fire, friendly fire—” He cut himself off. “I sound like an idiot, don’t I?” 

“No,” Rhea said. “You sound like you’re nervous.” 

He laughed an anxious laugh. “Well… you’d be right. Look at those powers of perception! No wonder you find all the traps.” 

Rhea looked at him, her gut tightening. It had been weeks since the Orzammar kiss—a stupid mistake on her behalf, but not one she regretted, now that she really thought about it. There had been so much that had happened since their descent into the dwarven realm and the Deep Roads beyond that she hadn’t had time to consider the effects of that kiss. 

True, when it had happened, it had just been a kiss. She and Alistair were friends, colleagues. They were the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden. They watched each other’s backs, kept each other safe in battle, talked strategy, carried a shared weight and legacy on their shoulders. He was handsome and charming and he would often run his mouth in the most blathering of ways, but she found it hilarious. He made her laugh. He made her feel safe. 

It had been a long time since she had met someone who made her feel all those things. 

Maybe she never had. 

In some ways, he was a first. The first man she had met who made her feel like she was a person worthy of love. 

And that shocked her. 

And astonished her. 

And made her heart skip. 

“Okay, you still haven’t said much,” Alistair said. “Should I back off now, before you whip out the daggers and stab me for making a move?” He ran a hand through his hair. That damn, perfect, beautiful hair. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll—uh—I’ll just go back to bed now and we can pretend this never happened—” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” Rhea said. “I… I want this to happen.” 

“That’s great, Rhea, but I should really go back to my tent and—say what now?” 

“I want _this_ to happen,” she said, more firmly this time. She stepped towards him. Illuminated as he was in moonlight, he looked far too beautiful for his own good. “I don’t want it to be just a drunken kiss between friends.” 

“I… you don’t?” 

She took his hand. “I don’t.” 

“Well, that’s… ah, that’s unexpected. Good, but unexpected.” He smiled awkwardly and ran his hand through his hair yet again. Nervous tick. “So, good talk. Glad we cleared that up. Maybe we should go to bed now—” 

Rhea stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He stopped talking. 

Alistair melted into the kiss, hands wrapping around her and holding her tight. She pressed a hand to his cheek, relishing the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin. He broke the kiss and looked down at her, astonishment in every inch of his expression. 

“Rey… I—” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “Just kiss me again.” 

He did, sweeping her close, his lips fervently pressed to hers. She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, beckoning him to her, but he suddenly broke away. 

“Wait,” he said. 

Rhea gazed up at him, eyes glancing over his face. Worry pulled at the creases of his eyes and tightened the corners of his mouth. Something was wrong. “What is it?” 

“I…” He looked away. “Never mind. It’s stupid.” 

“Alistair, I promise nothing you could say is stupid.” 

“Now we know that’s not true,” he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth on instinct. “Morrigan reminds me every day—” 

“Morrigan’s not here,” Rhea said firmly. “And frankly, this is none of her business, so put her out of your mind.” 

Alistair coughed. “Kind of hard to when her tent’s just on the other side of the woods, don’t you think?” 

Rhea couldn’t be certain in the moonlit darkness, but she was fairly certain he had flushed pink. “She’s not close and she’s not here,” she repeated gently, but firmly. “She’s back at camp, fast asleep like everyone else. And even if she wasn’t—why should we care? What we do between us in private is just that— _private._ She doesn’t care. Nor should she. And if she does, I’ll have a strict talk with her.” 

Alistair fell silent. “This… isn’t about Morrigan, you know,” he said quietly. “That was… what do you call it? Oh, I forget. I was delaying the inevitable by babbling, it’s a thing I do—” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it, Rey, I really wish I could, it would make all of this so much easier, but, well, we’re here now and this is _not_ how I imagined this going at all and I’ve gone and made a complete fool of myself and I can’t believe you’re still standing there. If I were you, I would have left by now.” 

“I’m here because _I_ want to be here,” Rhea said. “Alistair, I… I care about you. I want to be here with you. Even when you’re running your mouth and babbling yourself into oblivion, _I want to be with you._ Is that so impossible to believe?” 

Alistair paused. He did not look at her. “Frankly,” he said slowly, “yes. It is impossible.” 

Something deep in her stomach twitched. A phantom pain wrapped around her gut, an invisible wound. Rhea’s fingers pulled at her braid. “Oh,” she said. “I… see. So—” 

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant!” Alistair’s hands clasped around hers and he pulled her further down the pool’s edge. “This has nothing to do with you. You are beautiful and brilliant and smart and, dear Maker, _you_ are deserving of the title Grey Warden in every way that I am not. You are our leader, you make the decisions no one else can. You show wisdom in every choice, you care for the people who follow you. You don’t let your personal feelings inhibit your actions, you do what is necessary because it is the right thing to do and if no one does it, people are going to die. You’ve saved hundreds of lives already. Ferelden would be crushed if it wasn’t for you. You are going to save her, when hundreds of others couldn’t.” 

“Whereas me…” His hands shook in hers. He let go. “Whereas me, I’m a blundering fool. An idiot whose own sister couldn’t even look at him. I’ve been passed from place to place because no one wanted me, the Grey Wardens took me because Duncan pitied me. I’m a bastard not only in birth, but in name as well. How can I deserve to be with you when all I will just bring you down?” 

He looked away. “That’s why it’s impossible. You don’t deserve me, Rhea. No one does.” 

Rhea’s heart hammered in her chest. She reached out and gently placed her hand against Alistair’s cheek, turning his face towards hers. “You’re wrong,” she said. 

“Rey—” 

“No, listen,” she said. “You’re dead wrong, Alistair Theirin. You have a good heart and a kind soul. You care when others don’t. You think I’m so great because I can make the decisions other people can’t? Remember the merchant in Lothering who was swindling desperate villagers? I would have passed him by. I wouldn’t have stopped to help because getting to Redcliffe was the only thing on my mind. _You_ made me stop. _You_ made me listen. It would never help us get an army or fight the Blight, but we made a difference in those villagers’ lives that day—” 

“And they were overrun by Darkspawn a week later.” 

“Even so,” Rhea interrupted. “We made a difference and that was _your_ choice, not mine.” She pulled him close, her hand cupping the back of his neck. “You’re worth so much more than you think. You’ve been at my side since I was an initiate. You were with me through my Joining and what came after. You’ve put your faith in me, a nobody from the backstreets of Denerim and you trust me without question—” 

“Because you’re the most honourable woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Honourable? You do know that I’m a pickpocket and a thief and I used to run with the most dangerous thieving crew in Denerim?” 

“There are many different kinds of honour,” Alistair said. 

Rhea paused. “I pickpocketed the King of Orzammar,” she said. 

Alistair’s eyes widened. Then he chuckled. “Yes, well, some people deserve it, I suppose. Bhelen in particular. He’s a terrible, terrible man. Why did we make him king again?” 

“I didn’t crown anyone, _I_ got us an army,” Rhea said. 

Alistair brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes,” he said. “You did.” 

Rhea pulled herself close and nestled her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course, Rey.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“There have been… many men in my life,” Rhea said slowly. “Some would call them lovers, but they weren’t really…” She could feel Alistair freeze as she spoke, mulling her words over. But he didn’t let go. He still held her. “I wouldn’t call them that,” she added. “They were… there when I wanted to have fun. But life on the streets was hard and nothing was certain, in Denerim. One day, they would be there, the next they could be lying dead in a ditch or in the Arl’s prison or sailed off on a ship. And then all of that stopped. I became engaged, and next thing I knew I was marrying a man I had never met and…” 

“Kendells,” Alistair said softly. “I know.” 

“I thought I had a chance to be happy, Alistair,” Rhea said. “In that marriage. I really thought it was a possibility and Kendells took that away from me. He _took_ everything. My life, my family, everything I had ever known. I became a Grey Warden because Duncan knew it was the only way to spare me from the hangman’s noose.” 

“But it’s over now, Rhea,” Alistair said. “That’s in the past—” 

“It didn’t end there,” she interrupted. “There’s more.” 

“Tell me,” he said. 

“I thought I was cursed,” Rhea continued. “Cursed by the Maker to be unhappy forever. I didn’t think anyone deserved me. I was a cheat, a liar, a thief, a cutpurse… Maybe the amount of bad things I had done had piled up and that made me unlovable. And then I arrived in Ostagar.” 

“And you met me and I insulted you. I have such a charming way of turning things into the worst situations.” 

“No,” Rhea said. “I met someone I knew. From before. One of my… lovers.” 

Alistair looked down at her. “You did? Who?” 

Rhea’s mouth was dry. “Daveth.”

Alistair’s eyes widened. “Daveth and you were… lovers?” 

She closed her eyes. “Not really, not like that,” she said. “We had sex now and again. It was a casual thing. He wanted it to be something it wasn’t, and I kept pushing him away. I... have trouble. Letting people in. Letting people see. I… He was too close. He got too close. And then my father had me engaged, so it didn’t matter in the end anyways.” 

“But you saw him again, in Ostagar?” 

“Yes, I… _saw_ him again.” 

Alistair whistled. “No wonder that hike through the Korcari Wilds was so… tense.” 

“I thought it was tense because we were fighting darkspawn.” 

“That, too. And Morrigan threatened to turn us into toads. That didn’t help, either.” Alistair paused. “I can’t imagine it was easy for you when he… during the Joining—” 

Rhea closed her eyes and pressed herself against Alistair’s chest, her cheek brushing against the coarseness of his shirt. She could hear his heartbeat. He felt so _alive_ here, with her. “He went to his death bravely,” she said. “He accepted his lot for what it was. Not an easy thing to do, when you’ve spent most of your life fighting for every little scrap. He... I will remember him.” 

A lump had formed in her throat. Why were her eyes prickling? “After that, there was so little time to think,” she said. “But after Ostagar, when I woke up in Flemeth’s hut, I remember thinking… If I was alive, it was to do one thing: stop the Blight, and nothing else. I was the perfect warrior. Love, friendship, family… it had been taken away from me already, so it could never be used against me.” 

“That’s no way to live,” Alistair murmured. “You deserve so much more. You deserve all that—” 

“I _have_ all that,” Rhea. “I found it again. This band is my family. And my friends—even Morrigan. And love…” She tilted her head back, her dark eyes searching his. “There’s you.” 

“Rey…” 

“I don’t know how,” Rhea breathed. “And Maker knows I don’t know why, but I fell in love with _you._ You say it’s impossible, you say you don’t deserve it, but I don’t really care what you think, Alistair. We’ve been two of the most miserable, downtrodden people on Thedas and we _deserve_ a little happiness.” 

The corner of Alistair’s mouth twitched. He ran a thumb down her cheek, running along the deep scar on her left cheek. A remnant of the battle with the darkspawn in Lothering. “When you put it like that…” 

Rhea’s grip around him tightened. “What?” 

“You’ve got a way with words, Rey,” Alistair said. “If anyone could change my mind, of course it would be you.” 

He pressed his lips against hers and it was as if she had ascended into the heavens. Rhea’s heart thundered in her chest. Warmth spread through her stomach; she felt like she was glowing. Her fingers dug into Alistair’s back as she pulled him closer and closer, her body aching for his. She trembled, feeling both very light and very heavy, as if pulled between a dream and reality. 

She placed one hand at the back of his neck, snaking the other into his hair. Her lips parted and she deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue against hers, tentative and curious. She laughed as she flicked her tongue against his teeth, her mouth pushing fervently and excitedly against his. His hands ran up and down her back, as if he could not stop touching her. 

Alistair pulled away and pressed his forehead against hers. “Wow,” he said, breathing heavily. “That was some kiss.” 

“Do you believe me now?” Rhea asked. 

“I could never stop,” Alistair replied and kissed her. He was both soft and aggressive, sucking at her lower lip, careless with his eagerness, accidentally bashing his teeth against hers as he kissed her again and again. His hands tangled themselves in her hair, pulling free the braid and letting it fly loose. 

He moaned against her lips and it was the sweetest sound in the world. She kissed him again and again, standing on tiptoe and kissing along his jaw to his ear, then kissing his earlobe. She flicked her tongue over it once, then sucked, delighted by his sharp intake of breath. 

“Sweet Maker, Rhea,” he breathed. “Let me try that.” 

Her laughter was cut short as he pressed his lips to hers, holding her tight. She was mesmerized with how his hands moved across her back. He leaned her back, one arm supporting her weight as the other slipped around to her front, gently trailing up her stomach until it rested on her breast. His thumb kneaded her breast, pushing against it, wanting more, as his lips left hers and pressed all the way up to her ear. He flicked his tongue against the lobe, the tip, careful of her earrings. Then he took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked—and the world seemed to end. 

Rhea gasped, an uncontrolled moan escaping her and she fell forwards, her entire weight collapsing into Alistair. Her body tensed, tingles of every kind exploding all over her body. She wanted nothing more but to have her skin against his, right here, right now. She seized his hand and guided it under her shirt, slipping it under her breast band until it rested on her skin. He squeezed her breast, his fingers finding her nipple and he ran his thumb over it, teasing it until she was trembling with pleasure. 

“Alistair,” she murmured. “Alistair—” 

He pulled away, his eyes finding hers. “Rey…” 

“I want to feel you,” she said. “Please. Here. Tonight. I want you to have me. I want to have you. Let me be with you—” 

“Rey,” he said. “Wait a moment. I have to tell you something, it’s important—”

“Okay.” She moved away, letting his hand slide away from her breast. She shivered—without his body heat, without his intensity, the cool night air was palpable again. 

“I want this,” Alistair said. “I want this more than anything right now. But I’ve never _been_ with anyone. I…” He was blushing. She didn’t need the moonlight to know. “I don’t know how to make you happy.” 

She caught his hand. “Do you know how to make yourself happy?” she asked. 

“Uh… I’m not sure what you’re asking—”

“Have you given yourself pleasure?” 

“Hey, hey, I didn’t expect you to be so direct! Yes, I have. I know a thing or two, I’m not a complete—” 

“Alistair,” Rhea said, “if you call yourself an idiot, a buffoon or a fool again this evening, I am going back to my tent. You know and _I_ know perfectly well that you are none of those things.” 

He nearly jumped, hands going to his sides. “Yes, ma’am!” 

“Good.” Rhea ran a hand through his hair. She loved messing with it. She had always loved the look of his hair and now she had an excuse to play with it, she could barely keep her hands away from his head. “Tonight might not be the best night,” she said. “But there’s a learning curve and practice makes everything better.” 

“I think we’ll like practicing,” he said, grinning. 

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” she said. “There’s no shame in that. If you want to try something, ask me—” 

“So like combat directives,” Alistair said. “I knew there was a reason you were our tactician.” 

Rhea frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“What? I’m—you know—talking dirty.” 

Rhea laughed and wrapped her arms around her. “Oh, Alistair… Please don’t change.” 

He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t plan to.”

“Good. Now do you want to fuck me or not?” 

“Rhea Tabris,” Alistair said. “It would be my _pleasure.”_  

The moonlight pierced the canopy above, showering them in cold silver light. Rhea lifted Alistair’s shirt above his head and pulled it off, tossing it away into the bushes. She marvelled at his bare chest, pressing her fingers against it, running her fingers along the scars from their many battles. He watched her, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as she bent her head and kissed each scar, running her tongue along them. 

She pressed kisses all the way up his chest, nuzzling against him as she sucked at his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and she wondered at the faint gasp in the back of his throat as she let go of the kiss. She ran her thumb over the spot—he would be marked tomorrow. 

She giggled at the thought and suddenly he had swept her up in his arms and he carried her, like a rag-doll, to a soft spot in the base of an old oak tree. Rhea listened to the faint breeze rushing through the trees, listened to the lap of the water against the shore as she leaned back and gazed into her lover’s face. 

“I want to see you,” Alistair murmured. 

“Then see me,” Rhea said. 

“I can’t,” he said. “Too dark. I don’t have your vision, remember?” 

_Oh right._ Rhea often forgot about that. Even travelling with humans for as long as she had, she often forgot that they were not as well adapted to moving about in the dark as elves. 

“That’s okay,” Alistair continued. “I have just the thing. Wait a minute—” 

He left her side and went rummaging through something he had thrown beneath the underbrush. A moment later, he withdrew a handful of candles and some tinder and flint. Wedging the candles in the roots of the tree, he carefully lit them, filling the grove with an enchanting, warm light that contrasted with the soft moonlight. 

“You had… candles? All this time?”

“I came prepared,” Alistair said. “In case tonight went well, I wanted to be able to see you.” 

“So you expected to get laid tonight, is that it?” 

“No!” Alistair exclaimed. “I expected… well, I _wanted_ to get kissed tonight. This—” He nipped her ear and her heart fluttered. “—is all… quite unexpected.” 

Rhea laughed. “I don’t care how weird that is, I love it. Alistair, it’s beautiful.” 

“It’s special,” he said. He caught her hand with his and linked their fingers together. “I wanted… I want this to be special. Who knows when we will have another chance like this again.” 

Rhea tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I want you to see me,” she said. 

“Oh, Maker, Rhea… so do I.” 

He leaned forwards and pulled her shirt up, peeling it off over her head with ease. He blinked, gazing at her warmly as he reached cautiously for her breast band. “May I?” he asked. 

“Are your hands shaking?” 

“No. I’m just a bit cold—” 

“It’s all right,” Rhea said, taking his hand and putting it on her breast. Together, they pulled her breast band free and tossed it to the side. 

Alistair put a hand to her breast, admiring the darkness of her skin, the softness of her breasts. He rolled her nipple between two fingers, gently teasing it. 

“You have a scar there,” he said, stroking a finger beneath her left breast. 

“Yeah. From the undead attack at Redcliffe—” 

“I’ve never seen it before. I think I should investigate—” 

He pressed his mouth to her stomach and trailed kisses along the sharp scar. His right hand squeezed her right breast, marvelling at its fullness and how it fit in his hand. His mouth sucked at her left breast, lips tightening over her nipple, pulling at it, suckling it. Her breathing quickened and she could feel warmth growing between her legs. She ran her fingers through his hair as he sucked at her breast, overcome with sensation. 

She could feel him hardening against her, the tell-tale bulge pressing against her through his trousers. 

His lips let go of her nipple and he raised his head. “I can hear your heart,” he said, pressing a hand against her chest. “It’s beating so fast.” 

“I know,” she said. “It’s good.” 

He kissed her softly, running a hand across her breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “You know that, right?” 

“I’m starting to get an idea.” 

The candles flickered. Somewhere far away, an owl hooted. 

“I sure hope that’s no one we know,” Alistair said. 

Rhea arched an eyebrow. “And if it is?” 

“Well… I don’t know?” 

Rhea pushed herself up to her knees. “It wouldn’t bother me,” she said, running her hands up Alistair’s legs. 

“It wouldn’t?” 

“Not really,” she added, slipped his belt buckle free. She hooked her fingers around his trousers’ waist. “If they look, it’s their fault. This is a private engagement.” 

“Rey, I would never have guessed you had a thing for doing it in public.” 

“Not _public_ public,” she said. “I’m just not afraid to be loud.” 

She smirked at him. 

“Oh, I fully intend to find out how loud you can be,” Alistair said. He looked down and brushed her hair out of her face. “Are you going to pull those down or not?” 

She grinned and pulled his trousers down. 

Rhea couldn’t keep from smiling as she stared at Alistair, fully nude, practically sparkling in the combined moon and candlelight. The warmth of his skin seemed nearly tangible. He was more than handsome, more than striking, he was… 

Well. _Kingly._  

She eyed his cock and her heart fluttered. _I guess that is what you call a princely heritage._  

“What?” he said. “Is something wrong?” 

She ran her hands up his thighs. “No,” she said. “You are wonderful. You are perfect.” 

She grasped his cock in her hand and began to pump. 

His breath caught in his throat. “Rey—”

“Mhm?” 

“Can I ask something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Can you—can you do that with your mouth? I’ve always wondered what that feels like.” 

Rhea let go and gently ran her fingers along his erection, teasing him. “It would be an honour,” she said. Then she kissed the tip of his cock, bobbed her head, and licked him from root to tip. 

She thought he would fall over. 

Alistair gasped, guttural and expressive, as she ran her mouth and tongue over his erection. His hands went to her hair, stroking it, pulling it, lost in it. He was hard, delightfully hard, as she took him in more fully and sucked. He trembled, sounds she had never heard him make falling freely from his mouth. It excited her, to see him, to _hear_ him lost in pleasure. 

“Rey, Rey, Rey—keep going—Maker, damn it, _keep going, please—!”_  

She chortled and redoubled her efforts. She brought him closer and closer to the end, bobbing her head, lips and tongue working him harder than she had ever worked a lover before. And then he came, he was soft and sweet and the sounds he made were the most glorious, beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

Alistair groaned, panting, quivering, and knelt down beside her in the soft grass. “Rey,” he said, looping an arm around her and drawing her close. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. “That was… that was something.” 

She grinned and nestled herself against his body. The heat from his chest was mesmerizing. “I’m glad you approve.” 

“Oh, I more than approve,” he said, tapping her lightly on the nose. “And I intend to return the favour.” 

“If you’re too tired—” 

“No, my love,” he interrupted. “Tonight is our night and it is far from over. I told you, I intend to make the most of it, right?” 

Suddenly, he flipped her back into the grass and straddled her. He caught her arms above her hand, pushing her wrists down in the ground as he kissed her. Mouth, nose, cheek, ear. He suckled her ear until she was squirming, writhing beneath his body. He laughed and ran his tongue across her breast, nipping at her nipple. She gasped, trembling at his touch and he did it again. He squeezed her breasts with both hands as he worked his way down her stomach, placing wet kisses on her skin until he reached her trousers. He pulled her belt free and glanced up at her, eyes seeking hers. 

“May I?” he asked. 

Rhea wriggled her hips. “Yes, sweet Maker, yes!”

He pulled her trousers free and leaned over her in the grass, taking in her fully naked body much in the same way she had his. He ran a finger along the scar on her thigh, then across the one on her lower belly, following it until it disappeared into the dark curls between her legs. He kissed her stomach and hovered above her. 

“You might need to help me,” he murmured. 

Rhea caught his hand and placed it on her inner thigh. “Go along there,” she said. 

He ran his hand along one thigh, and then the other. He pushed her legs apart and placed himself between them, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, then another and another, kissing his way towards her centre. He glanced at her, his fingers hovering inches away and she felt a deep ache within her gut. 

“Alistair,” Rhea said, “if something’s wrong, I will tell you.” 

“I know,” he said. “I just… don’t want to do this wrong. You only get your first time once, right?” 

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Here.” 

She sat up and took his hand, placing it between her legs. She guided his fingers, stroking them between her folds. She was wet—she had felt it building ever since he had first kissed her ear—and his fingers were soon coated. She slid them up to her clit and circled it. 

“That’s… it,” she murmured. “That’s… that’s the spot.” 

He nodded. “I think I get it.” 

Then she let go. 

Alistair kept going at the pace she had set. Rhea lay back, stomach fluttering, legs flung far apart. She watched as he experimented with pace and pressure, delight shining in his eyes when her first moan came unbidden. The tension in his shoulders released and he quickened the pace. 

“Is that good?” he asked. 

“It’s… it’s good,” she said. “Faster—” 

He went faster. The pleasure mounted. Rhea threw back her head and closed her eyes, her breath coming in gasps. Suddenly, the pressure went away and she felt his fingers slip down through her slickness and into her core. She opened her eyes and looked at Alistair. 

“Good,” she said. “But move your fingers like this—” 

She showed him. He got it quickly and she moaned as he pumped, fingers curling just slightly inside her.   

“Oh Maker, Alistair—Maker—” 

“What else?” he said, leaning into her. “How else do you like it?” 

“Mouth!” she cried. “Kiss me, lick me there—now!” 

“When?” 

She moaned. _“Now!”_

He pumped his fingers. “What do you say?” 

“Now— _please_ —now!”

He withdrew his fingers, shining with her slick and put his head between her legs. He gripped her waist and his tongue, hot and wet, kissed her between her folds, licking and sucking her clit until she was mewling. Her hips bucked and she called his name, but he held her down, coaxing her towards the brink, moving her, leading her (when had his tongue learned to do _that?_ ), and oh what a joy it was, oh she could barely think anymore— 

“Alistair— _Alistair—”_

She flew through the stars, carried away on a wave of pleasure. 

Rhea crashed back down to earth and looked up to see the sloppy grin of her lover. He crawled through the grass and lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her. “How do you feel, love?” he asked. 

Rhea’s eyelids fluttered. “I like that,” she said. 

“Oh good!” 

“I like that you call me love,” she continued. “The rest of it was… The rest was—” 

“You’re breathless,” he pointed out. “It takes a lot to make a Grey Warden breathless.” 

She scrunched her nose at him. “I hate you.” 

“That didn’t sound like hating me.” He kissed her forehead. 

Rhea trembled and nestled closer, burying her head in his chest. She threw one leg over his hips, pulling him close. She paused. 

“I can feel you,” she said. 

“Well, of course you can, we are rather close—” 

“No, I can feel _you.”_ She slid a hand up his cock. 

“Oh.” Alistair blushed and grinned. “I didn’t think I’d… er… bounce back that quickly.” 

She rubbed a thumb over his tip. “Good thing you have plenty of stamina.” 

Alistair kissed her cheek. “What do you think? Should we—” 

Rhea cut him off with a kiss. “I want to feel you inside me,” she said against his lips. “Enough stalling, lover boy.” 

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him. She snaked her hands over his chest and leaned in for a kiss. “Do you want this?” she asked. 

He put a hand against her cheek. “Oh, Maker, yes.” 

“Then by sweet Andraste, Alistair, I am going to make love to you tonight.” 

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” 

Rhea smiled. “Fine,” she said. “I am going to _fuck_ you tonight.” 

She took his cock in her hand, revelling in the hardness of his erection, and guided it inside her. She did not take her eyes away from Alistair’s—she was enchanted by him, mesmerized by him, destroyed by him. He gasped as he filled her, marvelling at the sensation of being with another person, _in_ another person. She grinned at his revelation of the sensation and started rocking her hips, finding their momentum, leading them forwards. Alistair reached for her right breast, squeezing it, cupping it. He couldn’t take her eyes off of her. 

“Rey,” he murmured. “Oh, _Rey_ , this is—” 

“What?” she asked. 

“Something… something else entirely,” he gasped. 

With one hand, Rhea pinched her left breast, teasing it, playing with it. Her free hand slipped down, down, finding her clit, rubbing as she rocked. Pleasure coursed through her, building, building, building as it grew in Alistair. He groaned, mouth open, unable to take his eyes off her. She was intensely aware of heat between their bodies, the sweat rolling off of hers, the pressure coursing through them. 

She looked at Alistair. He was knocked speechless by sensation. He was completely enthralled by her, this beautiful woman on top of him, and he was trying, desperately, to hang on for longer, to savour the moment for all its worth. But this was his first time—he wouldn’t be able to push it further, even with his incomparable Grey Warden stamina.  

She bucked her hips, their pace intensifying. Her breasts bounced and she threw back her head, hair falling about her shoulders. Her fingers quickened, circling her clit, faster and faster. She felt him moving within her, faster and faster. And then she was flying towards the peak, and him along with her—together, moving as one. 

One person. 

One being.

One thought. 

Pleasure shattered through Rhea and she cried out in glory and in happiness. Alistair groaned her name, breath haggard and ragged as he came. She tilted forwards and landed on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. He shook, trembling, as he held her and only then did she realize he was crying. 

“Rhea…” 

She wiped away his tears. “Don’t cry for me,” she said. “I’m not—” 

“But you are,” he said. “You _are_ worth it. You are worth every moment of every day and I cannot for the life of me understand how _damn_ lucky I am that we met. I love you.” 

Tears prickled at the back of Rhea’s eyes. She pulled herself closer. “I love you,” she said, kissing his cheek. She covered his face with kisses. “I love you – I love you – I love you—” 

Sweet Maker, it felt so nice to say it. 

Finally. 

They lay in the grass, Rhea’s head on Alistair’s chest, the night air prickling their skin as the candles wore their wicks down. Her hand held tight to his and he stroked her long hair as they watched the stars beyond the canopy above. 

They spoke little—what was left to be said did not need any words. 

When morning came, they gathered up their clothing and made their way back to camp, hand in hand, sneaking around Oghren, who had taken third watch. As their companions rose, they pretended to come out of their own tents, but they fooled no one. 

Something about them had irrevocably changed. 


End file.
